Oh my Gosh I Am Hardly Sorry for Having Upended Thee

My wife is the Charlie Brown of banana pickers. She always picks the sorriest looking bananas. I don’t know if she feels sorry for them or there’s something she just doesn’t understand about bananas but she always picks the craziest looking bananas.

I offered my five year old son a banana this morning when he came downstairs to get ready for school. It was the last one. And there was a reason it was the last one. It looked like every other banana’s great grandfather. I’d tried giving it to the three year old a few minutes earlier and she backed away all wide eyed with her hands up to fend me off like I was brandishing a weapon. I didn’t want the banana to go to waste so when my five year old came down the stairs I practically jumped on him.

“Here’s your banana” I told him as he was approaching the pop tarts.

“No way,” he said, as if he’d prepared for me.

I insisted it was fine but he said it looked “crazy.”

It’s not “crazy” I assured him and unpeeled it, showing a perfectly fine banana. He took an intrigued step forward and then looked at me to make sure that I wasn’t playing a trick on him.

“OK,” he reluctantly said and took the banana.

My eight year old daughter then came down the stairs, still rubbing her eyes.

“Say the Act of Contrition,” I demanded before I even said good morning. Now, before you think I’m a crazy lunatic you must know that tonight was her first reconciliation. A big night. So I’m not a crazy lunatic, just a regular kind of fathery type lunatic who’s been studying the Act of Contrition to the point where at night we all dream about how heartily sorry we all are. “Just say the Act of Contrition,” I said. “One last time and I’ll never ask again.”

The three year old walked into the kitchen saying, “Oh my gosh I am hardly sorry for having upended thee…”

The eight year old just pointed at her as if this were all the evidence she needed that I’d crossed a line somewhere. She saw the boy eating a banana and asked if there were any bananas left. The three year old heard this turn in the conversation and ran out of the room before she even got to detesting her just punishments.

The entire car ride to school the girls joked about how long it would take for the eight year old to recount all her sins in confession. They asked her if she was planning on bringing her sleeping bag or a night light and they gladly reminded her of any forays into sin that may have slipped her mind these past eight years. If they forgot something it wasn’t for lack of trying because they were still remembering ugly incidents as they walked into school.

Around noon the phone rang. My son was sick. Not just a little sick. During nap time he spray vomited the story rug and three or four napping children around him. Even the school secretary/nurse seemed horrified by the amount of vomit that came out of my little boy. Linda Blair was mentioned.

When I picked him up he was sitting there ashen faced in the church pew the school stuck in the secretary’s office as a bench. The three year old and I signed him out and we got into the van. About halfway home he power vomited the floor of the van. Now this was a clever feat considering I’d given him a bucket but he managed to avoid it with sickening grace. The three year old held her nose but couldn’t seem to look away.

When he was done he asked if I knew why he was sick. I pulled my head in from outside the window where I was craning to get some fresh air. I suggested it may have been that everyone of his sisters had thrown up at some point during the past week but he thought differently. “I think it was the banana Dad,” he said. “I told you it looked crazy.”

I knew it was my fault. The three year old locked eyes with me accusatorily in the rearview while still holding her nose as if that were all the evidence she needed that she’d narrowly avoided banana-itis.

So when we got home I laid the boy on the couch and my three year old got him an ice pack from the freezer because according to her any malady simply needs an ice pack for a full recovery.

I cleaned out the van. You ever try to get vomit out of a seat buckle? Seriously. Have you? If you have and were successful call me because I’m still working out the logistics. I’m thinking I may have to make a Home Depot run for tools.

So after I cleaned out the van it was time to pick up the girls. As they got in, the 11 year old looked at me, crinkled her nose and said, “Why does it smell like Lysol, meatballs, and throwup in here?

I told her I could explain the Lysol and the throw-up. The nine year old added that the school served meatballs for lunch and I guess that explained what was probably lodged in the seat belt pretty well.

About halfway home, the 11 year old yelped that she forgot a book so I turned around and we went back, got the book, came home, started homework, checked homework, practiced spelling, got everyone showered and bathed, ate dinner and made it to my eight year old’s first reconciliation by 7 p.m. All this while occasionally holding the bucket for the five year old. Who definitely had the meatballs.

I was impressed with myself until we met my lovely wife at Church. I can always tell from her expression when somebody’s clothes don’t match. She never says anything outright but I can tell that something doesn’t match by the way she looks them over and over again as if I’d dressed them in grass skirts and viking helmets.

My wife and the three oldest girls went into the church. I actually started considering bringing the boy and the three year old into the back pew just so I could watch my daughter’s first reconciliation but the boy needed the bucket so back we went to the van. I felt terrible because I’d always been there for the other girls.

We stopped at a local drug store to pick up a card. The man at the counter asked my son if this card was for him. He said that it was for his sister and that his three older sisters were all at Church. And he was sick and he held up his bucket to prove it.

“You have five kids!” laughed the clerk. “No offense but better you than me.”

“I guess so,” I told him.

“Your house must be crazy like all the time,” he said.

“Nah,” I said. “Only when we’re in it.”

And we left. When my eight year old came home she said her first penance went perfectly. The girls asked her if she felt different and she said she felt happier. We gave her a card and she hugged us. The other two girls were saying they felt a little silly going to Confession because they’d been there the week before and they hadn’t really had time to have many sins. I told them that I could’ve reminded them of a few. They just looked at me like the three year old had looked at the banana.

My eight year old then said excitedly that it was just a few weeks until her first Holy Communion. My five year old lifted his head off the couch and said, “does that mean you won’t sit with me in the pew when they all go up for Communion?”

“Yeah,” she said proudly. “I’m going to receive the Eucharist.”

My five year old said, “I’m happy for you that you’re going to receive Communion but I’m going to miss you in the pew.”

That killed me. Sometimes you forget how sensitive they are. The girls all went up to bed. About twenty minutes later the boy fell asleep on the couch so I lifted him up and put him in my bed because he was sick. As I laid him down he opened his eyes a bit and said, “Dad?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“When she goes up to receive Communion does that mean I’m in charge of the pew and (the three year old) has to do what I say?”

“Yes,” I said. “Yes it does.”

He smiled, closed his eyes and dreamed his little Mussolini-esque dreams of his future tyrannical reign over the pew.

I couldn’t help but think that this life we’ve made for ourselves may look a bit crazy. But if you’re willing to just take a closer look, to peel it back a bit, everything’s just fine on the inside. We’re bananas.

Comments

How blessed you are to have such a beautiful family! Thank you for sharing!

Posted by Esther Paris in RI on Friday, Mar 25, 2011 2:20 PM (EDT):

Thank you for the great story. It is time to get a new car, or at least spring the $70+/- for professional interior detailing. That way all the dead french fries you cannot reach under the seats will also get removed. They take their tips from all the coin they find in the seats. :-)

Posted by Sreekanth Paul on Tuesday, Mar 15, 2011 11:32 AM (EDT):

Hi, I am Sreekanth from Dubai. Your sharing is very inspiring. I feel a liveliness in your life. God bless you and Family. I have three kids now. Enjoying my life with them. Thank you very much for your life sharing.

Posted by Laura on Sunday, Mar 13, 2011 4:26 PM (EDT):

So let me get this straight… you fed your kid a crazy banana AND dressed your kids in viking helmets to church?! ;) I love your blog, by the way

Posted by William Ferguson on Wednesday, Mar 9, 2011 2:22 PM (EDT):

Very funny! I’ve got three—ages 3, 5 and 8 and have been there. Also, it’s interesting to see that the “freezie” (the ice pack) is a universal salve. It got introduced to all three of mine in pre-school and it’s the first thing they go for when something hurts.

Posted by Pam on Wednesday, Mar 9, 2011 1:37 AM (EDT):

Matt, Have enjoyed reading your columns, but this one had me laughing out loud. I could picture every scene. Thanks so much.

Posted by Deirdre Mundy on Tuesday, Mar 8, 2011 10:01 PM (EDT):

So… Vomit and seatbelts (we have motion-sick kids, so I deal with this every time we go visit the grandparents!)

If it’s a car seat, take it apart and throw the straps into the washer with bleach-water.

If it’s stuck in the car, I’ve found a paper clip or bobby pin works best. Dip in in bleach water to kill germs, and get picking. (Yes, this is repulsive. But it works.) Last time, it took me about 1/2 an hour to get it clean, so pick a nice day and do it in the driveway while the kids frolic in the yard.

Posted by Pat O'C on Tuesday, Mar 8, 2011 1:30 AM (EDT):

I would try a power washer

Posted by Gail F on Monday, Mar 7, 2011 5:55 PM (EDT):

This is fantastic. It reminded me of when my son (now 14) was about four and I told him we were having lasagna for dinner. His face lit up and he said, “Like at church!” ??? I had to ask what he meant, and he said, “lasagna in the highest.”

Posted by Maggie on Monday, Mar 7, 2011 3:50 PM (EDT):

How wonderfully blessed your life is. I am envious of it, vomit and all. You never know how truly empty a house can be until you are in it alone day after day. Raising a family isn’t easy but wow , what an awesome wonderful, crazy, exciting ride. By the way, you know you did a good job when the three year old is already reciting the act of contrition.

Posted by Odhiambo on Monday, Mar 7, 2011 10:10 AM (EDT):

You aught to write a book Matthew, you are a natural.

Posted by Theresa on Sunday, Mar 6, 2011 3:52 PM (EDT):

This is wonderful! What a lovely thing to read on this sunny Sunday afternoon! :)

I love large families (come from one myself) and hate how our culture tends to see them as horrifying and possibly grounds for the insanity plea. Your story just warmed my heart and reminded me again that there are still people who appreciate what ‘family’ means! Thanks for making me laugh and restoring my perspective; God bless you and your crazy bunch! :)

Posted by Matthew Archbold on Sunday, Mar 6, 2011 12:55 PM (EDT):

Thank you for all the kind comments.

Posted by Florence Odhiambo on Sunday, Mar 6, 2011 8:24 AM (EDT):

Beautiful, beautiful. I loved it. I was laughing and tears were clouding my eyes. Your kids are just adorable, just how kids should be!
May God Bless you and your family.

Posted by Marie on Saturday, Mar 5, 2011 11:59 PM (EDT):

@Dino Durando: AGREED! Must have more!!!

Posted by Dino Durando on Saturday, Mar 5, 2011 3:36 PM (EDT):

Book! Book! Book! We want more!
But seriously, our family of 8 had a crazy banana moment this morning over breakfast and my kids hadn’t even read this post yet. My 10-year-old argued with me about the crazy bananas until I gave in when she said, “I’ll make banana bread with it, that’s all it’s good for at this point.” It’s in the oven right now. Hope it cooks long enough to get rid of the banana-itis!

Posted by Barbara Mary Speer on Friday, Mar 4, 2011 6:51 PM (EDT):

Aren’t true stories just the best and funniest? Made me think of my daughter-in-law’s family and all the antics they got up to, and the stories my father told as the second-youngest of five. As for that barfd-upon buckle: You’ll need a strong and well-bristled toothbrush, no good using a tired-out old balding one, rubbing alcohol, bicarb. a glass of your favorite beverage and a clothespin.
Place clothespin firmly on nose, mix the alcohol and the bicarb, dip the toothbrush in the mixture and scrub it over the offending article until all the nasty bits are out. Pour some alcohol over to rinse off the bicarb, and the whole thing should dry very quickly. Remove the clothespin before your nose turns blue, and retire to a secluded spot to enjoy your drink.

Posted by Megan Robison on Friday, Mar 4, 2011 6:14 PM (EDT):

Oh my gosh! I love this! I’m in a big family too, there’s six kids, and I’m the youngest of all of them. And believe you me, I KNOW what you mean. In fact, no need to brag, but my family is probably louder. Now you might say, “yeah right,” but I have a friend who’s the youngest of seven, kind of funny that we are friends, and said just three of us are LOUDER than the seven of them! hahaha! So I know what you mean, and how crazy it can be.

Posted by Donna on Friday, Mar 4, 2011 4:28 PM (EDT):

Thank you for the medicine of laughter today!! Our little three year old grandson jumps and sings happily on the trampoline, ‘ring around the rosary…’. Being one of 17 children (the third oldest), I can only tell you, after ‘surviving’ the growing up years, the wealth of blessings that our beautiful parents passed on to us by having all of us, money could never buy!! You are a delightful writer!! Thank you for sharing God’s gift to you!

Posted by jedesto on Friday, Mar 4, 2011 3:08 PM (EDT):

Carmen Miranda had a song called “Conchita Banana” which included this advice: “When they are flecked with brown and have a golden hue, bananas look the best, and ARE the best for you! You can put them in a salad, you can put them in a pie, Aye! Any way you treat them, it’s impossible to beat them; but, bananas like the climate of the very, very tropical equator; so, you should never put bananas in the refrigerator! NO-NO-NO-NO!”

Posted by Climacus on Friday, Mar 4, 2011 2:31 PM (EDT):

Matthew,

I believe the term you’re looking for is ‘projectile vomiting’, and I’d just like add; Oh my God, I am heartily sorry for laughing so hard at the Archbold family!

Posted by Shawna Turner on Friday, Mar 4, 2011 2:17 PM (EDT):

That was hilarious. I really enjoy reading about your household, sounds somewhat like ours. Our 3yo prayed “Hail Mary full of grease”. It’s a good life.
I second Suzanne’s method although Deacon Don’s sounds more fun. Sadly, we’ve had to use this method more than once. OxiClean works really well(the powder) for soaking out all the vomit. Good luck.

Posted by Trisha on Friday, Mar 4, 2011 1:48 PM (EDT):

Re: vomit from a seat buckle. I did this just a few weeks ago…

I wrapped the end of a dinner knife with an anti-bac wipe. The knife is long and flat and the wipe helps pick it up and disinfect. I think a disposable diaper wipe would work as well. Good luck! That is one of the worst jobs ever!

From experience, to get vomit out of a seat buckle, 1) plan to get wet, 2) go to a coin-operated car wash.. the ones where you have a wand that issues soapy water and then clean water with a power boost. 3) soap the thing for almost a full cycle (probably a couple of minutes) and then (this is the really wet part 4) go through another cycle with the unit on turbo blast or whatever it’s called, opening and closing the buckle and manipulating it in all possible directions, and don’[t forget the belt portion - the weave of the material holds in a lot of almost invisible material (and smell).

You have to do this last part with both hands really, so someone may have to hold the wand and blast it at the buckle you’re holding. You might find your kids would just LOOOOOVE to do this and watch you get good and drenched :-)

God bless

Posted by milesperhour on Friday, Mar 4, 2011 2:08 AM (EDT):

This is a keeper. I loved it. Mine are all grown but I remember when, on the way home from a Halloween party, my two younger girls, aged 2 and 3, and my husband and my pregnant self ALL got violently ill, in the van. Everyone except my five year old daughter. We had to stop the car and throw up on someone’s lawn. All four of us got sick on some poor stranger’s lawn. The five year old kept saying “this is disgusting” all the way home. Thank goodness the baby wasn’t born yet. Maybe the five year old could have taken care of him!
Love your humor. And congratulations to your daughter, and the new king of the pew.

Posted by Shan Gill on Friday, Mar 4, 2011 12:53 AM (EDT):

Great fun, Mr. Matthew Archbold. That is, for those of us on this side of the article.
God bless you and yours.

Posted by TeaPot562 on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 11:32 PM (EDT):

My wife is on the other computer - we’re in our 70s, and with five grown children (now ages 53 to 44) and 12 grandkids. I refrained from reading your column to her only because she’s rebuked me twice already this afternoon for messing up her concentration.
The three-year old’s initial remark (also the column header) and the five-year old’s being “in charge” of the pew were worth ROFL (or as close as I’ve been in a month).
Thank you for a boost in my immune system. (Laughter does that, right?)
TeaPot562

Posted by mary on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 10:05 PM (EDT):

That was maybe one of the best articles I’ve read, ever. I went from near-laughing to near-crying (and only held back both because I’m sharing my office today and it would have been weird to be laughing and crying at the computer screen).

Posted by rantingcatholicmom on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 8:33 PM (EDT):

You are truly hilarious and truly truthful.

Posted by MLTischler on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 6:37 PM (EDT):

Get a small bucket (not the same one he barfed in), and put warm water, mild detergent, and baking soda in it. Dangle the buckle, swish it around, let it soak a few minutes, then take a discarded toothbrush to it. Detergent will wash, baking soda kills smells, warm water should loosen up the gift that keeps on giving.

Posted by priest's wife on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 5:36 PM (EDT):

about crazy bananas- it helps to have a dad who grew up in a communist country so you can lecture your kids “You’re turning up your nose at that banana? When I was your age, bananas were available only about 4 times a year, and you had to wait 3 hours in line and they only let you buy 6 of them”- so my kids eat the banana- me- I am a horrible banana snob who will only eat them at the perfect stage of firm ripeness

Posted by Vincent in Texas on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 4:49 PM (EDT):

Beautiful story Matt. Thanks for the chuckle, need that.
And I can relate to several aspects of your story, We also have 5 children, 3 girls and two boys. So far. My wife just loves that last part.
And yeah, better me than the person making that frequent comment.
Oh, Simple Green does wonders for cleaning vomit out of seat belts.

Posted by Maureen on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 4:45 PM (EDT):

soak it in hydrogen peroxide to bubble the barf out then q-tip it

Posted by Suzanne Temple on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 4:18 PM (EDT):

Sorry, Matt. As big a fan I am of your writing, there are limits. You’ll have to soak your own seatbelts.

Posted by Brian on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 3:36 PM (EDT):

Oh my gosh… what a fantastic story. You gave me reason to laugh out loud during an otherwise bleak day!

Posted by Ricky Vines on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 3:05 PM (EDT):

Sue2: I second the motion.

Matt: I like the conversational yet eloquent writing style. The transitions flowed smoothly. It was easy and fun to read. It’s the reverse of a picture being worth a thousand words as it makes the narrative come to life.

My 2 cents. In our parish, even the 3 yr. join the communion procession. The minister simply blesses her. It sounded like they stayed back in the pew from your narrative.

Also, frequent (weekly) confession is one of the ways St. John Bosco produced more than 100 saints since 1888. More on that here. It also helps in discipline because when they disobey, they offend God not just us.

Keep up the good work. You’re like a Salesian because you make being holiness consist in being always cheerful - as St. Dominic Savio would say.

Posted by Sue2 on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 2:36 PM (EDT):

Book. Please:-).

Posted by Calah on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 2:14 PM (EDT):

Oh this is hysterical. I especially loved the comment about your wife and the clothes, because I am totally that wife. And my poor husband, on my third look-through of my childrens outfits, will say things like, “What? Pink, orange and red are all in the same color family. How does this outfit not match?”

I love him. Thanks for a great article!

Posted by Robert Simms on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 2:11 PM (EDT):

In your wife’s defense….when a banana begins to look crazy, put it in the freezer until you have enough for banana muffins.

Posted by Emily on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 1:44 PM (EDT):

I enjoyed this piece very much. Life is never boring with five kids- (I am one of five). This was like a little window into when I was making my first Confession and the never ending snowball effect when some important family event is taking place.

Posted by Marie on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 1:37 PM (EDT):

I am still laughing. Oh my goodness, that was one of the FUNNIEST things I have read in the past week. Typical of a large family :)

Posted by Matthew Archbold on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 1:18 PM (EDT):

OK. Can you come over and do it? It’s kinda’ icky.

Posted by Suzanne Temple on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 11:57 AM (EDT):

I love this Matt. Today is our son’s first reconciliation and we’re off to a very similar start. To get vomit out of seatbelts you need to soak them. This means you have to bring a bowl of soapy water out to the car, lay it on the seat and let the buckle soak in it.

Posted by Bridget N on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 11:53 AM (EDT):

Oh my gosh, I’m crying! That was awesome! You had me from rotten bananas - those are the ones my mom actually likes to eat first. Me…I just save them for when I make chocolate chip banana bread. Then I can say that I meant for them to get squishy and gross and brown ;)

Posted by CWHITTEN on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 11:51 AM (EDT):

Oh my! I laughed so hard I cried!

Posted by Micah on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 11:44 AM (EDT):

Archaeology Cat…nice to see ya.

Posted by George on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 11:41 AM (EDT):

I have six daughters from 5 to 14. There is still vomit in our seat buckle from 2007. FYI

g

Posted by Rachel M. on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 11:37 AM (EDT):

LOL - almost on the floor :-). Having a few more kids and a few more years w/ parenting I’ve got a few more stories like this. Reading others adventures makes me feel less lonely as a mother of large family trying to get ‘holy right’.

Posted by Carolyn A on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 11:23 AM (EDT):

Let it dry and scrapee with toothpicks.

Oh - and great column.

Posted by Marc L on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 11:13 AM (EDT):

Thanks for the great story. We are just on our first (with hopes of many more) and stories like this help beat off the nagging from friends about the amount of children we want to have. Though I’m not looking forward to throw-up in a seat-belt… I’m thinking a hose in the summer!

Posted by Archaeology cat on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 7:09 AM (EDT):

I second Micah.

Posted by Micah on Thursday, Mar 3, 2011 6:16 AM (EDT):

Beautiful. You may think your life is crazy and even hate it from time to time (I know I do), but as an outsider…beautiful. Sounds like you have a great family.

Oh…and vomit out of a seat belt…yeah…let me know if you figure that out. Worst thing in the world to clean. Club soda, maybe…

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